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In
the gray dawn of morning
the smoke rises to mix with
a marble sky,
whisps of steam drifting in
the wind,
while men wake in warm rooms
of winter,
buried under roofs of snows.
Bare limbed trees stretch slender arms in the air,
sifting the smoke with their
fingers
as it rises in winter shadows,
soft shades of scarlet
stretching across a cold slate
sky.
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